


Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty

by BlossomsintheMist



Series: Steve/Tony Kinktober 2017 [24]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Gaping, Anal Play, Bottom Tony, Bottom Tony Stark, Dom Steve, Dom Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fisting, Gentle Dom Steve, Intercrural Sex, Kink, Loving Gentle Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Praise Kink, Prostate Massage, Prostate Orgasms, Service Top, Service Top Steve, Sexual Training, Stretching, Sub Tony, Sub Tony Stark, Subspace, Top Steve, Top Steve Rogers, Training, anal stretching, gentle dom Steve Rogers, loving gentle kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:03:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlossomsintheMist/pseuds/BlossomsintheMist
Summary: Tony and Steve are determined to give Tony a prostate orgasm.  Steve has a plan.





	Beauty is Truth, Truth Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> Something of a sequel to [A Brighter Word Than Bright](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12875763). Definitely somewhat inspired by Sineala's [Thrust Issues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14852309/chapters/34382510), which made me want to write bottom Tony fisting again. This time from Steve's POV!

Tony felt hot and smooth inside, slick and dripping with all the lube Steve had pushed into him, as he drove yet more lube in with his two fingers, sliding them back inside the softly yielding clench of Tony’s dusky, puckered hole, puffy but still tight around him as he petted the pads of his fingers along Tony’s lube-wet inner walls. Tony moaned on the bed, whining, really, and his thighs trembled, head rocking back and forth as he clenched his fists on the coverlet, one fisting tight in the blankets by his hip, the other clutching at the pillow. His eyes were glassy, his mouth open, his body loose and sweaty over the bed, legs splayed slightly, lax and open. His lashes fluttered as Steve pumped his fingers gently, once, twice, then sought out that soft, sensitive sweet spot inside of Tony and rubbed them into it in a firm, circling motion.

Tony cried out, arched his back, his hips leaving the pillows supporting them and making sure Steve got a good angle, and then he subsided, drawing in long gasps of air like he’d been running a marathon. “S-Steve,” he moaned, the word faint, breathy. 

“That’s me,” Steve murmured, with a smile. “I’m right here.” He pressed his fingers in a little more firmly against that sensitive spot and Tony shuddered all over, mouth working and eyes staring unseeing at the ceiling, half-lidded, before he let his fingers swirl away, stroking them inside him in long, slow figure-eights. “That still feeling good, fella?”

Tony’s cock was hard and insistent, flushed a dark red like sweet dark cherries, and glistening at the tip, smearing his belly with wetness that caught the light, caught in the carefully trimmed trail of hair that led up to his navel. It had taken some time for Tony to get fully hard from this, but he was definitely there now, hard and aching, balls drawn firmly up against his body. Tony hadn’t mentioned it, or begged to come, but ever since he’d hardened fully he’d been fidgeting more, rubbing the heels of his feet or his hands against the bed, lifting his hips, or fisting his fingers convulsively in the coverlet.

Steve felt plenty of sympathy for how desperate he had to feel—he’d been hard in his sweatpants practically since they’d started this, lightheaded with desire just at seeing Tony like this. His cock was throbbing even now, and it was an effort of will to focus on Tony, on watching him, instead of letting his attention turn to his own need, his desire to rub off and watch his own come spatter Tony’s body, as flushed and hot with desire as he was. Steve loved watching him like this, seeing every little twitch, every reaction, even the smallest. He leaned down, thrusting his fingers gently, and mouthed at the sweaty, velvety skin of Tony’s hip, trailing his mouth downward and relishing the feeling of Tony’s salty, sweaty skin under his lips, the lush trembling muscles of his thigh, the taste of him, the way Tony moaned and his body rippled and clenched down around Steve’s fingers inside, the heat of his skin. Tony had wanted this, to be pushed to the edge and not given any help to tip over, and well, Steve was totally on board with that. Steve had mentioned his desire to help Tony come from his rear, his sweet spot, more than once, and apparently Tony had taken that to heart, because he’d demanded that Steve help train his body to come from his prostate, a determined look on his face and his jaw set, until Steve had agreed (not that he’d been hesitant—are you kidding? He’d been dreaming of exactly this ever since Tony had come harder than a freight train when Steve massaged his prostate while he sucked him off that one time).

Tony nodded, his eyes glazed and his head loose on his neck. He didn’t look like he was tracking on what Steve was talking about at all.

“Yeah?” Steve asked softly. He let his fingers slip away from Tony’s sweet spot for a moment, and Tony whined, arched his hips up. “Hey, easy,” Steve murmured, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction that Tony was so into it, wanted the stimulation from his fingers so much that he’d chase it when it was gone. “You sure? Still feeling good? Still doing all right?” He knew if Tony had been doing this to him, he’d have been making way more of a fuss, but that was him. Tony was a hell of a lot more patient about his own pleasure than Steve was about his. Tony liked being teased, made to wait, denied.

“’m good, Steve,” Tony mumbled. His mouth was loose, wet with saliva. “Mmm. Yeah. Feelin’ good.” He smiled a little up at him, loosened his hand from the blankets to slid it up and pat at Steve’s arm reassuringly. “It’s, ‘s really good, slugger.”

“Yeah, you look like you’re feeling good,” Steve murmured, instead of asking _are you sure?_ , because that wouldn’t be trusting Tony, even if it would be driving Steve crazy to be teased for so long without even getting close to relief, and Tony’s slick, bare cockhead looked angry and hot and flushed burgundy with blood and need. He slid his hand up, pressed Tony’s cock gently to his belly, and smiled a little more at Tony’s gasp, the way his eyes squeezed shut and opened again and closed again and opened again as he shivered under him, the little whine he gave, breathy and gasping. Tony’s eyelashes were heavy and dark against his cheeks, like he could barely keep his eyes open. Steve trailed one finger along the underside of his cock, making him tremble, but willing to bet that Tony wasn’t close enough that this would make him come. Tony just whined, his legs going even more slack, spreading instinctively for Steve. He took advantage of it by bracing his forearm against the bed, sliding his thumb up along Tony’s perineum, brushing gently just behind his balls. It was amazingly how erotic that was, and Steve’s cock throbbed in his pants as he looked at his thumb there against Tony’s flushed skin, his fingers sunk deep inside him and slick and messy with lube. Tony was whining helplessly as Steve stroked him inside, keeping his fingers away from his sweet spot this time, and slid his hand up, closing it around Tony’s cock, around the head, slid his thumb over the tip, feeling the messy slide of precome as he pressed down until it gave a wet, slick, squelching noise and Tony whimpered, arched up under him, trembling.

“Steve,” he gasped, breathless and shuddering. 

“You’ve got such a pretty cock,” Steve breathed. “Look at how pretty you are, Tony, all hot and flushed and needy for me.” He let himself get caught up in the color contrast for a moment, Tony’s dark, duskily flushed cock, the dark rose color of it against the paler flush of Steve’s hand around it, the way his slippery cockhead looked peeking out from under Steve’s fingers, dark and messy wet.

Tony whined breathily under him, squirmed, brought both hands up and crossed them over his eyes, bucking his hips softly, helplessly, up into Steve’s hand and then back down against his fingers inside him. He always reacted like that to Steve calling his cock pretty, calling _him_ pretty, as if he didn’t know what to do with it or how to react, his face flushing almost as dark as his cock behind his arms, as he pressed his wet mouth against one of his own forearms. Steve wanted to lean down, press his lips to Tony’s cock, mouth wetly at it in a soft, messy, lewd kiss, but that would be far too much stimulation for what they were doing, push Tony too far, so he just squeezed again and brought his hand away before he found Tony’s prostate again with the fingers of his other hand and started to rub in wide, easy circles.

Tony gasped again, his chest heaving, lifted his hips again and sank back down so that his cock slapped wetly against his belly. His sweet spot felt hot and sensitive under Steve’s fingers, so slick and wet with lube and a little swollen, they’d been there so long. He pushed in a little harder, and Tony choked, tilted his head back, moaning, both hands fisting in the pillow on either side of his head now. “Oh, God, Steve, damn, I, I can’t, I can’t,” he gasped out, the words low and scratchy, hitching in his throat and about an octave lower than his usual voice.

“Okay, then you can’t, sweetheart; we talked about this,” Steve said, keeping his own voice soft, and it came out low and rough and husky, too. “That’s okay, right? Do you want a little relief?” He opened his hand again, cupped it against Tony’s cock. “I can give you that. I can make you come.”

Tony rolled his head a little against the pillow, licked his bottom lip, eyes wide open but unfocused, but then he groaned and said, “No, no. Not yet. Don’t, don’t want relief. Keep going. A-ah.”

“That’s it,” Steve murmured. “Good boy. Going to come from your rear or not at all, right?” 

Tony nodded, unsteadily, swallowing so that his throat worked, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Yes,” he said. “Yeah, sweetie, I—that’s what I—I want, oh, God, please.” 

“Shh,” Steve said. “No rush. I can keep this up all day, if that’s what you need.” He kept his fingers moving, working at Tony, a slow teasing pressure, sliding off then coming back for more, spreading his fingers just slightly apart inside him to stretch him in between. Tony loved this, he knew, loved being kept right on the edge, unable to reach orgasm, helpless and at Steve’s mercy, for hours. It was a kink of his, and hell if it wasn’t beautiful to watch, if it didn’t turn Steve on, too, Tony so helpless and needy for him, strung out to the point he could barely string two words together, so needy for Steve’s hand or mouth or fingers or cock, _anything_. He brought his head back down, pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses up and down Tony’s thigh again, over his hip, still keeping his fingers inside just there, working inside him in a steady, constant motion, a steady pressure, as he pressed the other against Tony’s belly, above his cock, holding him steady, compressing him inside just a little, so he’d feel Steve’s fingers more keenly.

Tony keened, bucked up and then rocked back down on Steve’s fingers, tossing his head again. He shivered, then gave a little wet helpless kind of laugh, blinking desperately, and said, “It might be what I n-need, champ. Oh, God, Jesus, it’s so—right there, Steve, honey, right there.”

“I know what I’m doin’,” Steve assured him. “I’ve gotcha. I know, I’ve gotcha right here.” He circled his fingers around Tony’s sweet spot, making him buck and gasp and sob in his throat. “Right here, where you’re all swollen and sweet for me, aren’t you? Feel good, doesn’t it? It buzzes under your skin, right? Until the pleasure’s all hot and intense and itching right there, all the way down to your knees, up into your guts.”

Tony moaned, whining again, his knees trembling, still spread out wide. “Yeah,” he said after a moment, low and thick. “It—it does feel like that.”

“Your cock aching?” Steve murmured against the skin of Tony’s thigh. “Throbbing? It hurt, Tony? It sure looks like it does.”

Tony moaned again, pressed his face into the pillow. “Y-yeah,” he said. “It’s—it’s a g-good ache, though, big guy.” He rolled his hips, made another breathless noise as his cock shifted slightly in the air. “Feels so—so—God, I’m so, I’m so close, baby.”

“Mmhmm,” Steve agreed, pressing his fingers in against that sensitive place again. Tony might be close, but he doubted he’d come for a while yet. “Relax, sweetheart,” he murmured. “It’ll make it easier.” 

Tony gave a little sobbing laugh. “Relax, he says,” he mumbled, “like it’s so easy.”

“Never said it was gonna be easy, mister,” Steve said, smiling a little as he pressed down on Tony’s stomach again. Tony made a soft, whimpering little noise, rolled his hips. “You’re being so good,” he added. “Doing so good for me, Tony.”

“R-really?” Tony mumbled, sounding breathless and uncertain, a little dazed, with that soft, needy tone in his voice Steve recognized, the one that meant he was a little bit under, a little bit spacey, and genuinely wanted, needed that reassurance. “Am I—am I—good? Doing good?” 

“So good, sweetheart,” Steve said, warm and genuine, in a rush of fondness. “Doing so good, you’re so good. So good for me, huh? You’re really bearing up under it. Taking it. Taking it so good for me. You’re so sweet.”

Tony flushed, slid one hand into his hair and tugged at the soft, tousled strands, his cock jerking, leaking wetly onto his belly, just at Steve’s praise, he was pretty sure. Tony always reacted so beautifully to praise, and Steve could see the way he melted into the bed, his legs trembling and his cock twitching. “I-I’m trying,” he mumbled breathily.

“And you’re doing so good,” Steve told him. “Such a trooper for me, Tony, I’m telling you.”

Tony smiled a little, looking unfocused, his gaze starry and soft. He licked his bottom lip, flushing a little more.

“That’s it,” Steve said again, and moved up along Tony’s hip, pressing gentle kisses there, along his side, until he moved up to his shoulder, left a kiss there, and leaned up to feather his lips over Tony’s. Tony groaned, his head tilting back, then turned, tilting it into the kiss. Steve leaned in to meet him, kissed him more wetly, sliding his tongue along Tony’s bottom lip, before he leaned in, deepening the kiss, warm and soft. He could feel Tony’s breathlessness in the kiss, the way he shuddered, gasping against Steve’s lips, even as his tongue twined softly with Steve’s, lapped at his bottom lip, heat and breath and warm and softness mingling between them. Tony was a fantastic kisser, and even now the way he was kissing Steve was some of the best he’d ever had, but it was noticeably softer and messier than normal, sloppy and soft, Tony clearly out of his head, floating on the sensations of it, and that gave Steve a deep sense of satisfaction, a warm glow of pride, that he was doing that for him, a sense of protectiveness, too, warm and heady and strong, welling up within him, bringing his hand up instinctively to rub at the curve of Tony’s neck, squeeze gently at the back of it, as he kissed him. Tony just moaned, pressed into the touches, his head rolling loosely on his neck, tongue curling soft around Steve’s.

He kissed him for a long time, letting his fingers inside Tony still for a while to concentrate on the touch of his lips, the warmth of his breath, before he started to move them again, rolling them slowly inside him in a way that made Tony gasp and shudder under him, chest heaving and his eyes sliding closed. His tongue slid sloppily, wet, along Steve’s bottom lip as his mouth fell open, as he moaned and rocked his head back, digging his feet into the bed as he pressed himself down on Steve’s fingers.

He felt hot inside, hot and slick with lube, overheated, radiating heat so he felt fiery, so vividly hot, against Steve’s fingers, velvety soft and wet and dripping. Steve kissed down the side of his neck, still rocking his fingers into that sensitive spot, back and forth, until Tony was moaning, writhing, hands clenching up to press bruising spots into Steve’s arms, his shoulders, that wouldn’t last. Tony was sweaty all over. Steve’s own cock throbbed with desire, with need. Tony had insisted on getting him off before they’d started this, but that felt like a long time ago now. But Steve pushed it back, to the back of his mind. He could get off later. He was sure Tony would be eager to help him, even as gone, as fucked out, as he’d probably be by then. He always was, every time, all generosity, seeming to want nothing more than to please Steve with his body. But this was about Tony, that was why Steve wanted it to be all about Tony, and Steve couldn’t imagine anything better than getting to concentrate on him like this, to have Tony trusting him this much, being this good for him, even if it meant not coming himself for a good long time.

“Are you doing okay?” he gasped out after a moment, and Tony blinked, his eyes looking hazy, far away, glazed, before he sucked on his bottom lip, gasped a little, hoarsely.

“Y-yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, okay. Sure thing, slugger.”

Steve felt hot himself, very very hot in the cheeks, flushed all over. “Are you sure?” he persisted, and his voice came out of him so soft and breathless.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, and his eyes flashed up to lock with Steve’s from under his eyelashes, so thick and dark, his expression somehow fond and soft, affectionate, skin crinkled up a little around his eyes, so open and tender and loving that something in Steve’s chest just throbbed at the look in them. “I’m sure.”

“’s not too much?” Steve found himself asking softly.

“It’s’a lot,” Tony slurred a little on the words, but his eyes were still soft, scrunched up warm and fond, “but, I, I, in a good way, I like it, big boy.”

“Okay,” Steve breathed. “Okay.” He leaned down to kiss Tony again, feeling the soft puffiness of his wet, well-kissed lips, the way Tony moaned and leaned up into him again, even as he returned his fingers to their task, rubbing them in slow, easy loops inside Tony, curling them gently until his knuckles rubbed along him inside. Tony moaned again, trembling softly, lightly, his hips working, thighs flexing as he rocked up, just a little, then back down against Steve’s fingers. 

Steve kissed Tony for long moments, losing himself in it, the way Tony kissed back breathlessly, eagerly, completely, like he was giving himself up to the kiss entirely, not holding anything back, pressing his tongue softly and messily against Steve’s, shivering under him, just like the loose, easy, instinctive way he was pressing his body down against Steve’s fingers inside him. Steve found himself curling the other hand around the back of Tony’s neck, cradling his head against the pillows as he kissed him, Tony’s mouth so hot and wet and welcoming, his kiss sweet and enthusiastic and giving and perfect.

When Steve finally did pull away from the kiss, he found himself stroking Tony’s jaw, his neck, gently, stroking his hand through his hair, letting it tangle in the soft, sweat-damp curls, as he moved his mouth softly down Tony’s neck, brushed kisses over his shoulder. Tony shivered under him, his head lolling against the bed, as Steve left another kiss against the hinge of his shoulder, then looked down, found where he’d left the lube. Tony shivered, gasped, whined, knotted his fingers in the bedspread, as Steve pulled his fingers out of him, slicked them again, coating a third finger in lube, before he slid his two fingers into Tony again. He focused more on loosening him this time, spreading him out easily around his two fingers, his well-massaged tissues willing enough to let him press in the third finger without much trouble. Tony just moaned, caught his breath then breathed it out on a low whine, gasped and shivered. Steve went back to pressing kisses up over Tony’s chest, along his pectorals, over his shoulders, even as he started to move three fingers slowly inside of Tony, letting him adjust. Tony’s cock still looked hot and angry, flushed a dark, burgundy red around the head, messy and wet against his belly, but Steve wasn’t sure if he was any closer to coming that way than he’d been earlier.

He took it easy this time, letting it build slowly, giving Tony less focused attention to his prostate, until he was whining, hands clenching and unclenching in the covers and thighs trembling, paying more attention to spreading him out gently, loosening him up, stroking his inner walls, curling his fingers so his knuckles pressed gently into him, knuckled into his soft, tender insides. Steve spread his fingers apart a little more and Tony covered his eyes with his wrists again, panting, his cock straining against his belly, needy and neglected. He was sweating all over, and Steve made a mental note to get some of Tony’s kiwifruit flavored electrolyte water into him after this was all over.

They stayed that way for a long time, Steve stroking his hand through Tony’s hair, along his shoulders, keeping his other hand moving inside him, until Tony was whining steadily, moaning, breathless like he couldn’t quite take in a full breath, his hips constantly moving, trembling, jerking up off the bed, legs quivering and trembling so that Steve could see it in the lush muscles of his thighs where he was spread out, his feet jerking spasmodically on the bed, bumping clumsily against the covers, Steve’s thighs, his rear. He brought his hand down to stroke up and down Tony’s quivering thigh, ducked his head to press a kiss to his hip, sliding his hand up to thumb gently along the place where Tony’s hip met his thigh, the curve of his pelvic bone. Tony trembled, shivered, gave a hoarse little moan. Steve reached for the lube again. 

He didn’t pull his fingers out this time—he didn’t want to give Tony enough warning or time to tense up—and instead just coated the lube onto his little finger with his other hand, then twisted his three fingers inside Tony’s body, making him spread around them, his body giving so sweetly, still a little tight and tense as Steve pressed against the muscles, but still willing to let Steve in, and pushed his fourth finger in almost easily, before another twist of his wrist had all four fingers buried inside Tony before he thought the other man had even quite followed what had happened.

“O-oh,” Tony breathed, on a breathy little sharp intake of breath, followed by another. “Oh, that’s, Steve, S-Steve, baby, that’s—”

He was beautiful, the way he tensed then relaxed, his lashes fluttering, breathed in, mind clearly hazy but still ticking over behind his eyes as he took a breath that made his stomach rise and fall, the way he looked with Steve’s fingers buried inside him. He was so goddamn sexy that Steve was feeling hot all over just watching, sweat prickling on his hairline, and he knew his cheeks were flaming red. His cock jerked, throbbing uncontrollably, as he pressed another kiss to Tony’s hip, turned his head and laid his cheek flat against it. “A lot?” he murmured. “You feelin’ okay, fella? Not too much, is it?”

Tony made a little sound like he’d choked on his own saliva, sucked on his bottom lip. “So—so full,” he mumbled. “S-so full, Steve.” 

“Yeah, I bet,” Steve said, keeping his voice gentle, soft, though it still came out so fond, soft and affectionate with it. He rotated his wrist gently, pressed his fingers in against Tony’s soft, quivering insides. Tony moaned again, throwing his head back against the pillow, and, just as Steve had half expected, he clenched up inside, muscles clamping down tight on Steve’s fingers. He stilled, leaving them there, brought his thumb up and ran it gently around Tony’s tight, clenching rim (puffy and a dark, rosy red from all the attention, and dripping with lube, but now pulled tight), let it smooth gently over that soft sensitive spot behind his balls that Tony always kept so neatly bare of hair, soft as velvet under Steve’s thumb. “You can take it, sweetheart, I promise,” he murmured. “You’re doing so good.”

“St-Steve, damn, that, that. That’s most of your hand,” Tony slurred out on a moan. His eyes were wide, and Steve could see his Adam’s apple jerking as he swallowed.

“Yeah, it is,” Steve agreed, “and you’re taking it just fine. It doesn’t hurt, does it? Want me to take it out?”

Tony flushed, a deep red washing up from his neck, over his cheeks into his forehead. He brought his hands up, pressed them over his eyes, curled his own fingers into his sweet soft curls and tugged a little. “No,” he said. “I—I. No. Don’t take them out, hon, pl-please don’t.” 

“Okay,” Steve agreed, feeling a rush of pride in Tony, at his sweetness, his bravery, his willingness to let Steve do this to him even when it made him self-conscious, left him uncertain. He stroked his hand up over Tony’s side, left a kiss against his ribs this time. “Then I won’t. Does it hurt?”

“N-no,” Tony husked out, uncertainly, then, with more certainty, “No, it, it, it doesn’t hurt at all, champ. Just. Just really—really full.” 

“You’re sure?” Steve prompted, still stroking his thumb gently behind Tony’s balls, not moving to push his fingers further into Tony’s body.

“Yeah,” Tony breathed, all soft warm breath and not much sound behind it at all. “I’m sure.” Something in his body relaxed at that, and Steve barely needed any force at all to sink his fingers into him up to the base, so that his knuckles were pressing against the soft, quivering puffiness of Tony’s welcoming rim, then past it, Tony’s body practically sucking them in, all velvet needy pressure and openness.

“That’s it,” Steve breathed out, awe and a sense of love, of gratitude for his good fortune at even being able to touch Tony like this at all, to be with him, leaving him hardly able to breathe. He leaned in, pressed a soft kiss to Tony’s hip again, again beside his navel, trailing his tongue gently over his sweaty skin. “That’s it, Tony, so good, you’re so so good, doing so good for me, that’s perfect. Absolutely perfect, sweetheart.”

“Feels so good,” Tony slurred out, and when Steve looked up at him, he could see the soft, overwhelmed, pleasure-glazed expression on his face, the way his mouth was hanging open, loose and slack-jawed, that high, dark rose flush still on his skin, gently flushed and hot, red over his cheekbones. His bottom lip was swollen, puffy and full and glistening wet, and his eyelashes were heavy over his eyes. He looked gone on it, out of his head. “So, so good, just, full up with you.”

“Yeah, that’s it,” Steve breathed, “exactly. All full up with me, that’s me inside you, Tony, filling you up so much.” His cock throbbed, but more than that, his chest felt tight, tight and tender. “I’ve gotcha,” he managed to husk out, through a throat suddenly tight with emotion, overwhelmed just feeling, seeing Tony give it up for him like this. And at least Tony was feeling good from this, even if he couldn’t actually come, in the end, even if they didn’t get him there. 

“Mmm, Steve, yeah,” Tony slurred out. “Got—got me, takin’ care of me?”

“Yeah, exactly, exactly that,” Steve said, quick and fumbling through a throat that ached with emotion. “I’ve gotcha, I’m gonna take care of you. Doing so good, Tony. God,” he breathed, suddenly overcome with emotion, “just look at you.”

“Mmm,” Tony said, lashes fluttering. His voice was soft, breathless and hopeful and anxious when he spoke again. “Really? Doing good? Am I doing good? Really?”

“So, so good, Tony,” Steve said, and skimmed his fingers gently over Tony’s belly, carefully not touching his cock. He was definitely under now—the asking for reassurance, the hope that he’d be told he was doing all right, the repeating Steve exactly without changing to more correct grammar, they were all surefire signs. “You’re doing so good. So sweet for me. Close your eyes, sweetheart.”

Tony moaned a little, did so, breathing softly through his parted lips, licking a little over the bottom one. Steve reached, up, without moving his fingers inside of him, and pulled Tony’s pillow down more firmly under his head, made sure it was supporting him, other pillows tucked under it, until Tony’s head was cushioned softly, then skimmed his fingers over his forehead, slid them through his hair. Tony moaned a little, and his flush deepened, especially as Steve traced a finger down over his nose, touched the pad of it gently to his lips, smiling as Tony smiled himself, soft and sweet, and tried to capture it with his lips, sucking lightly on the callus, the pad of it, soft and wet, sending a shiver through Steve all the way down to his cock.

“There,” Steve said, keeping his voice soft, even though it wanted to come out husky and rough and groaning, “good boy. Nice and relaxed for me, huh?” He brought his hand back down, stroked it over Tony’s belly, feeling the way his abdominal muscles released for him, relaxed their tension. His cock still looked hot and angry, smearing precome messily against Tony’s belly, along his pelvis, but Steve knew that mentioning Tony’s potential orgasm would only make it harder for him to come; they’d been through that enough by now. The last thing Steve needed to do was to make him more anxious about it, get him thinking about it. That would only make it harder on him. He still wasn’t sure Tony would actually be able to do this, at least this time—Steve knew Tony could come from just his rear, his sweet spot inside, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to do it this time or not. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure him about it.

Steve kissed Tony’s shoulder again, twisted his hand gently inside of Tony so that his knuckles pressed softly into Tony’s inner walls again, rubbing his thumb over that soft place just behind his balls at the same time. Tony gave a low, soft moan, swallowed hard, his lashes fluttering, throat working, turned his head in toward the pillows as his mouth sagged open. “That’s it,” Steve murmured, letting his soft strokes over Tony’s perineum turn harder, pressing in with more force until Tony was moaning louder, trembling, his fingers clenching in the covers again. “Would you look at you?” Tony smiled a little, flushed, didn’t open his eyes. That was good, a good sign.

He started moving his hand a little more, then, drawing his fingers out and pushing them back in to press firmly into Tony’s prostate in a slow, so slow, soft and easy approximation of the thrusting, rocking motions of penetrative sex. Each time, his knuckles caught on Tony’s rim before he eased them out, and each time, Tony gasped, shuddered down to his toes, lashes fluttering before he shut them tight again. At first, it was a hard, tight squeeze, Tony clamping down around him, squeezing tight so that his inner muscles pushed Steve’s fingers into his sweet spot even more firmly, so that he had to twist his wrist, push and pull and tug, feeling Tony shudder with the pressure, until his hand slid free, before he pushed it into him all over again and Tony would gasp, arch slightly under him, but eventually, slowly, Tony started to relax, his inner muscles loosening and his tight, puffy hole relaxing its clenching grip, opening up slow, slow and easy with every slow twisting thrust Steve made with his hand. Before long Tony’s mouth was open, his eyes half-lidded, heavy and glazed and staring at the ceiling like he wasn’t seeing much of anything as he moaned nonstop, hands making fists in the blankets again. Steve didn’t let up on his pressure to Tony’s sweet spot, keeping his hand angled perfectly to hit it, rubbing his fingers in and around it, deep, each time, until Tony was moaning and his cock was jerking, spilling glistening precome out across Tony’s belly, smearing along his pelvis. Steve didn’t draw his attention to it, but he did reach up, curl his hand over Tony’s fist, fitting his palm over his knuckles, feeling affection well up tight in him, even more than desire at the lovely picture Tony presented so strung out on it and gone and needy. He squeezed, and Tony made a soft, hitching little noise, swallowed hard so that his Adam’s apple bobbed, turned his head to look at him dazedly. Steve just smiled with all the love he had in him to give and lifted his hand in his to curl his fingers under Tony’s, press a kiss to his knuckles.

The dazed, soft, wondering smile that spread across Tony’s face was worth all the time in the world. Steve kissed his knuckles again, turned his hand over and pressed a kiss to his palm, then linked their fingers and squeezed, returning their entwined hand to the bed as he kept up the constant motion, the slow, gentle thrusts, with his other hand. Tony’s hand tightened on his as he moaned, his mouth sagging open again, rolling his hips a little, then sinking back down on the bed, on the pillows under his hips. His face tightened so it looked like he was almost in pain, brows drawing down, mouth open and panting, but Steve knew that that meant he was close; he always got that look when he was close, like he was almost in pain, mixed with the softness of his mouth, the needy wet give of his lips as he panted out a moan, all formless vowels that might have been Steve’s name.

Steve would have given anything to stroke Tony’s cock right then, but he knew Tony would blame himself, not Steve, if he came from anything other than his prostate, and he couldn’t bear to ruin this for him anyway, even if he wasn’t going to come from it at all. Instead, he kept at it, working steadily at the plan he’d already put together, working Tony open with tiny, incremental twists of his hand for what felt like forever, an eternity of Tony’s hot crushed velvet insides, all strong smooth muscle and working heat, clenching down on his hand as he went soft and eager inside, of Tony’s cock hard and flushed dark and dripping, of Tony’s sweet, soft little punched out sounds like he was beyond overwhelmed, like he didn’t even know what he wanted to ask for anymore. Tony kept whining, mumbled, “Steve, Steve,” arched his hips, then sank back down, hand relaxing then tightening on his, in between giving those punched out little noises, barely more than huffs of breath. 

Steve tried not to give him too much warning as he brought his thumb up, swiped it through the lube that had dripped down over his palm, making sure it was good and wet, before he shifted his hand, curled it into a cone shape, tucked his thumb in against his palm, then pushed it in again. Tony just moaned at the thrust, at first, but then Steve was pushing it in, and in, and his eyes were widening, his hand clutching at Steve’s, mouth going utterly slack, his whole body quivering, glistening with sweat in the low light. He was barely open enough for it, but Steve got his whole hand in with some persistence, feeling his knuckles drag insistently on Tony’s rim and watching him shudder all over at the feeling, down to his toes, heard the cut off, abortive little sound in the back of his throat that turned into a moan as Steve’s hand sunk into him to the wrist.

Steve felt a sense of—of warmth, of awe, a glow of pride and reverence, wonder and admiration sweeping over him, as he looked at him. Tony was always so tight, so tense, but there he was, giving it up for him, sweet and easy as anything, his bottom lip full and soft and puffy from biting it, legs splayed and slim, strong, muscular body sweaty and debauched and spread for him, cock hard and needy, and Steve’s own big broad hand buried in him up to the wrist. Tony moaned, turned his head against the pillow, and Steve could see how it smeared sweat wet over the high, proud arch of his cheekbone, rubbing it off on the soft cotton. His beard was wet with sweat, the muscles of his neck working, corded with it.

Steve curled his fingers into a fist inside of Tony, feeling the incredible squeeze, the heat and clench of him, the way his muscles worked and spasmed inside, the soft smoothness of him, and bucked his hand up just a tiny bit, pressing his knuckles into Tony’s sweet spot, and Tony gave a soft, breathy little gasp and came.

His cock spattered his own belly with come, and Steve was shocked, but it was nothing to the shock that swept over Tony’s expressive features, his mouth hanging open in an ‘o’ of shocked surprise and pleasure both, his eyes going huge and surprised. Steve only spent a moment in shocked, surprised pride and pleasure, before he got his head back into the game and rocked his fist again, gently, inside Tony, pulling back and pressing in again just enough to repeat that pressure on Tony’s sweet spot. He kept it up, rocking his knuckles into that sensitive spot, and Tony kept coming, and coming, covering his belly with milky-white spatters, moaning and gasping and giving short, choked little noises of surprise, wet and gurgling in the back of his throat.   When he was finally coming dry and whining, shaking, trembling under Steve, twisting uncoordinatedly, hands flailing helplessly over the bed, releasing his grip on Steve, Steve stopped moving his fist, though he let it rest there inside of Tony, not pulling it out, and he leaned in, pressed a kiss to Tony’s sharp hip-bone, before he let his mouth trail over, licking up Tony’s come and savoring the bitter musky salt of it and then closing it around Tony’s softening cockhead.

Tony yelped, trembled under him, but he relaxed a moment later, when Steve was very, very careful, careful to be so very, very gentle, just cleaning him with his tongue, curling it ever so softly over the wet head, licking come off as he moved down. Eventually, Tony let out a shuddering moan, and his hand came down, curled in Steve’s hair, pulling tight. Heat swept over Steve at that, all the way down to the soles of his feet, made his own cock throb in his underpants, and he felt himself shudder, groaned before he could stop himself.

When he finally licked Tony cleaned and pulled away, Tony was looking up at him with wide, wet eyes, face slack and wondering and blown away, still shocked and almost—flayed apart. His hand wandered softly over Steve’s face, clumsy and searching, a finger sliding over Steve’s lips, between them, so he caught it in his mouth and sucked on it, watching as Tony shuddered all over, groaned, his eyes fluttering closed, before he let it escape, kissed up the rest of Tony’s belly, slid his hand under his neck again, feeling the wet slick build up of sweat there, slippery under his hand, as he cupped his head against the curve of his skull. He left a kiss on Tony’s collarbone, murmured, “Is it all right if I kiss you?” and smiled at Tony’s unsteady nod, his breathed, _Yeah, ‘course, honey, please_ , smiled with overwhelmed, wondering love of his own as he leaned in and pressed his lips against Tony’s, his fist still resting deep inside Tony’s body, scooting his knee up a little so he had a better position for the kiss.

Tony moaned into it, melted for it, just giving way for it, for him, so sweet and easy and welcoming, like he couldn’t think of anything better than kissing Steve, like he wanted Steve there forever, passing the same breath back and forth. His eyes were shut tight, thick dark eyelashes against his cheeks, and his hands came up, dragged through Steve’s hair, curled around the back of his neck, fisted there, in his hair, against his shoulders. Steve just kissed him, deep and warm, keeping it soft, because Tony had just come, was probably overstimulated, but kissing him as deep as he wanted to, as his instincts all urged him to do. Tony just melted for him, soft and easy as anything, and Steve couldn’t bring himself to pull away from a long, long time.

“Mmm,” Tony said, when he finally did pull away, smiling, his eyes still closed, and his hands stroked down the back of Steve’s neck.

“Yeah?” Steve murmured, brushed another soft kiss over his lips, couldn’t resist, and it just made Tony smile more. “That good?”

“Mmmmm,” Tony said, loose and languid and relaxed. “ _Yeah_. Good.”

“Good,” Steve said. “You did it, baby, you know that? You came just from your rear, from my fist inside you. You did it, Tony, you did so—so well.” His own throat closed up, all emotion, tight and tight, overcome because—because he really had done it, Tony had done it, for him, surpassing his own limits, what Tony felt his body could do, his own doubts, just because Steve had told him he could enough times and Tony had decided to take him up on it. “You were absolutely beautiful. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as you.”

Tony smiled, even more softly, almost shyly, touched, dipped his chin. “Shut up,” he mumbled. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not,” Steve said, couldn’t resist swiping his thumb over Tony’s soft bottom lip. “Not stupid. You were beautiful. _Are_ beautiful.” He leaned in, pressed another kiss there, suckled lightly on that full, soft, puffy lip, swollen and tender and soft under him, for a long moment, before he pulled away again with a kiss to Tony’s damp cheekbone, wet and starry with sweat. “You did so good for me. You did _so well_ , Tony, I can’t get over it. You’re so good. You’re so good for me.”

Tony flushed all over. “Steve,” he said faintly.

Steve rolled his fist, gently, inside of him, and he felt the shudder that went through Tony, all over, the way he clenched up, the shiver of desire. It wasn’t fair, maybe, but he wasn’t ready to end this yet, and he wanted to know. “Can I—do you want to go again?” he asked, and Tony flushed dark.

“I—I don’t know,” he mumbled, swallowed, “if I can—I—”

“It’s fine if you don’t come,” Steve murmured. “I just want to fuck you with my fist.”

“O-oh,” Tony said, and his lashes fluttered. He bit his bottom lip, sucked on it, and his tired cock twitched against his belly. “Y-yeah. You. You should do that. Yeah.”

“Okay,” Steve breathed, and rocked his fist inside Tony again. He couldn’t take his eyes off him. The way he reacted, the way he moaned, shivered under him, rocked back to meet his hand, just all of it, the soft, uncoordinated breathlessness in the way he moaned and jerked and shuddered, the way he _looked_. Steve brought his hand down, curled his hard, callused palm around Tony’s cock this time and jerked him lightly, softly, as he worked his fist inside of him. Tony hardened easily enough, though slowly, gasping, biting his lip, fists clenching, but he didn’t open his eyes, stayed soft and relaxed and easy.

He came without opening his eyes again, spattering his chest with milky come from under Steve's fingers, and Steve bent down to suck the tip of his cock, sliding his fist back down over Tony's cock and swallowing a heady burst of come, milking it out of him with his tongue as he kept his hand moving inside him. Tony moaned and moaned and moaned, could barely open his eyes when Steve finally pulled back and pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, and Steve knew that was all he could get out of him this time, that he was done, exhausted, beyond played out. But that was perfect— _Tony_ had been perfect, beyond perfect, so beautiful, coming with Steve’s fist in his rear, God—Steve kissed his shoulder again, the side of his neck, and Tony smiled, a sweet, private smile, let his head slump to one side, giving him access.

“Okay, going to pull it out now,” Steve murmured. “Just a little stretch, okay—just like going in—” He worked his hand out of Tony as he talked, and Tony gave a breathless, high, hitching little gasp, and then his hand was sliding out of him—God, the air felt so cold on it, his hand was so _wet_ and hot, all clenched up and almost cramping, but not really, thanks to the serum, and Steve clenched and unclenched it a few times, working the kinks of his wrist. He could still feel Tony’s warmth, the memory of it clamped down around him.

Tony’s hole looked wrecked, hot and puffy and gaping, dripping a little lube out of the soft dark place Steve had left between that dark rosy clench. Steve touched it gently with his fingers, worked one back inside to Tony’s gasp, but he couldn't feel anything wrong except hot, overworked muscle that wanted to clench him tight as he worked his finger free, and pulling it out just brought a trickle of more clear lube, with no blood.

“What,” Tony breathed, like every word, every thought was an effort. His eyes opened to little cracks of blue, heavily latticed with damp lashes. “What about, about y-you, peaches?”

Steve smiled down at him, rubbed at his hip. “Most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, fervently. “Roll on your side, wonderful.”

Tony smiled, a soft, willing, beatific smile, all excited and eager, did so instantly, despite his obviously uncoordinated limbs. Steve shucked off his sweatpants, his underwear—God, finally—wincing at the dark wet spot, soaked through, his precome had left, before he lay down beside Tony on the bed. He curled his arm under Tony’s head, pressed a hand against his hip as he kissed the back of his shoulder, got the lube out again and slathered one hand with it, pumped his cock, once, twice, feeling the overwhelming rush of pleasure, pulling him down into it—then pushed down on Tony’s thighs, holding them together, and pressed his cock between them. He could feel the hot, overworked puffiness of Tony’s hole, his gaping looseness—he could have pushed inside, fucked him like that, but Tony would already be sore, and this was more than enough. It would probably just take him one—two—three thrusts, a few seconds, and he was coming, spattering Tony’s thighs, his soft cock, the bed. Pleasure washed over him, hot and dizzying, and Steve lost himself in it, in the warmth of Tony against him, the smell of him, sweat and sex and damp, sweaty cologne, the soft nape of his neck against Steve’s lips, how perfect he felt, for long, long moments. It was only Tony squirming a little under the hand Steve had rested heavily on his hip that brought him back to himself, out of that bright, sunshiny, perfect place he’d gone.

“Bet you don’t want to sleep in the wet spot,” he managed to slur out after one, two tries, working his mouth to bring saliva back into it, kissing the round of Tony’s shoulder again.

“Mmm?” Tony said, a soft, questioning hum. He sounded completely out of it. Steve propped himself on one arm, rolled Tony back over into him, and Tony’s head rocked back, he looked up at him, eyes soft and hazy, lashes riding low. “Steve,” he mumbled.

“Yeah,” Steve said, and smiled at him. “God, you were perfect. You did it, Tony. You did it.”

Tony smiled, wide and pleased and a little proud. “I did it,” he said, slurred, really, long and slow over the words. “I was perfect? Really?” A touch of uncertainty, pulling at one side of his mouth.

Steve slid his thumb against it, gentle, against that side of Tony’s mouth, a soft brush of reassurance. “Of course you were,” he said. “God, you came from it, Tony, just from my hand inside you.”

“All hot and full,” Tony said, and his eyes fluttered closed, he flushed a little more. “Felt good. Full of you.” He waved a hand, vaguely, down toward his cock. “Lots of pressure, and it. It felt good.”

“You like the pressure, huh?” Steve murmured. Tony had come multiple times the last time Steve had fisted him, too. He hadn’t had any trouble at all. Just like that, all easy and good.

Tony flushed, shook his head, his shoulders hunching up around his ears, pressed his face to Steve’s chest, sucked open-mouthed kisses onto his skin. “I dunno,” he said, finally. “Like _you_. Pressure’s good. I guess.”

“Mmm,” Steve said, and pressed a hand to the back of Tony’s head, stroked it through his tangled, sweaty curls. “Well, fella, good thing the feeling’s mutual. I like you, too. An awful lot.”

Tony smiled against his skin; Steve could feel it. “Oh, really,” he said.

“A whole hell of a lot,” Steve said, and pushed himself up with his arm, before he slid both arms under Tony, pulled him up, into his lap. Tony yelped, eyes wide open, slapped one hand against Steve’s chest, but Steve just grinned down at him, eased a hand through his hair again, and kissed him. That had Tony going sweet and soft, melting again, humming and leaning into it, going soft and relaxed against him, and Steve would never, never get enough of that. He kissed him for a long time, stroking his hand through his hair, rubbing behind Tony’s ear and at the back of his neck, because he knew Tony loved that, getting lost in it, the dizzy perfect sweetness of it. When he did finally pull away, even he felt breathless, and Tony’s head lolled against his shoulder.

“Bath, I think,” Steve said, stroking at the back of Tony’s neck.

“Mmm,” Tony said, his head loose and rolling against Steve’s chest with every touch. “Bath’d be nice.”

“Yeah,” Steve said. He stroked a tendril of hair softly back out of Tony’s eyes, and Tony smiled, soft and easy on his mouth.

“I really did do good, huh?” he said, softly. “I came—I came without—without even—just from my—like you’re always wanting.”

“Yeah,” Steve breathed. “Yeah, Tony, you did. You did so, so well.” He ran a hand through Tony’s hair again, feeling that overwhelmed tightness in his throat, that overwhelming rush of emotion, of gratitude and pride and love, all over again. He wasn’t sure if this was too much to say—if it sounded stupid, maybe, or condescending, but he didn’t mean it that way, he didn’t— “I’m proud of you.”

Tony smiled. “I think I’m proud of me, too,” he said. “Hell, Steve, sugar, peaches, honey, that was _so_ good.”

“Yeah, you’re feeling good, aren’t you?” Steve murmured, but he couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Tony should be feeling proud of himself, that was for sure. “And you should be. Let me clean you up, make you feel even better. Rub you down—give you a massage, make the bed with some nice, clean sheets—”

“A massage?” Tony said, then bit his lip, “That’s too much, hon—”

“Hey, you just came twice from my fist in your behind,” Steve said. “You did everything we hoped you could do.  Let me spoil you a little, mister.”

Tony choked on a chuckle, then said, “Okay, when you put it that way, sugar. Spoil away.”

“I’m going to take you up on that,” Steve said, and kissed him soundly on the forehead, before he swung him up into his arms and out of bed.

Tony just smiled, and his eyes slid closed as he let his head rest, pillowed, on Steve’s chest. “Counting on it,” he murmured, and nothing could have made Steve feel taller, better, more satisfied and content, in that moment, nothing in the world.


End file.
